Transformers Renaissance: Corona Nox
by MyBlueOblivion
Summary: Part two of Transformers Renaissance. Megatron attempts to retake control of the Decepticons, while the Autobots are forced to deal with the aftermath of their latest battle, as well as a mysterious stranger from the far future. Please r and r!
1. Chapter 1

Transformers: Renaissance

Part Two: Corona Nox

Chapter 1

"_... For I am become Death, destroyer of worlds..."_- Excerpt from a Hindu text.

_The Ark, Colorado, USA, z-minus ten days_

As Optimus Prime surveyed the scene in the Ark's medbay, he wondered where it had all gone wrong. The room was full of commotion, assorted warriors rushing to and fro with equipment, replacement parts, or carrying wounded. In the centre of the bay, two support beds had been set up, side by side, so that Ratchet and First Aid could work closely on the two most critically injured warriors. They were at the centre of the storm; both medics were in their element, occasionally swapping patients when a damaged component exceeded First Aid's ability to repair, or Ratchet's hands were just a little too large for a particularly delicate procedure. The pair danced slowly around one another, their faces etched with grim determination, but otherwise apparently untouched by the chaos that surrounded them.

Prime's focus shifted to the rest of the room, taking in the damage that had been done by this latest battle. He watched as the Protectobot leader, Hot Spot, assisted a limping Grimlock over to a support bed, to wait for his turn with Wheeljack, who was working triage somewhere across the bay. In the bed next to Grimlock, Groove sat nursing a mangled left arm, the silver components twisted beyond recognition. Further down the bay, Silverbolt and the other Aerialbots stood surrounding Fireflight, who had suffered severe damage to both wings.

Of all of the injured, however, none felt as much pain as the warrior at the far end of the medbay. Sideswipe sat there, seemingly oblivious to the rest of the world. If Prime didn't know better, he would have said that the warrior was some kind of shade or apparition; the patina of grime and dust that covered his battered red frame, and his vacant expression, gave an impression of the otherworldly. He simply sat and stared, his whole focus centred on the yellow form lying on one of the centre tables.

Ratchet was struggling to save Sunstreaker's life, and from across the room Sideswipe willed him on. It was a miracle that Sunstreaker had survived; Prime had briefly asked Sideswipe what had happened when they had been brought back to the Ark, and he had barely been able to believe what he had heard. It was testament to how tough the twins were that they had been able to fight for so long, let alone for one of them to survive a powered dive straight into the ground from two hundred metres up. Now it was just a matter of time, before they knew for certain whether it had been a courageous gambit, or bitter martyrdom.

The Decepticon attack had been too well coordinated. The Seekers and the Combaticons had simply been the first wave. Mere minutes after the Protectobots and Aerialbots had arrived to help Jazz and the twins, the Decepticons had received reinforcements in the form of the Constructicons, Blitzwing and Astrotrain. The fight had quickly escalated, with more warriors quickly arriving from both sides, and several mechs had been lucky to walk away. But in the end, Starscream had simply called a withdrawal; after all, he had what he had come for. With the Matrix of Power in his hands, Starscream would quickly become a much more serious threat. The thought made Optimus feel sick.

Prime had turned up just in time for the close of the battle, and he cursed himself for acting so slowly. He had led the last charge against the Decepticons himself, and there he had met Starscream. Almost immediately, Prime had been able to sense the difference in the Seeker; in the twenty minutes that he had possessed the Matrix of Power, Starscream had begun to change. Already, he was just a little faster, that little bit stronger, and it was just enough to notice. The Matrix had accepted him, and it wouldn't be long before Starscream unlocked its full potential and it consumed him completely.

The Seeker had crowed about how he had taken the Matrix from Jazz, taunting Prime with what had been done to his friend. It had been years since Optimus had met Starscream in single combat, but as he charged toward the Seeker, bellowing in defiance, he was certain that good would overcome evil once more. He had been so wrong. The battle had been short and brutal, leaving Prime with a scar along the left side of his chest plate, and Starscream with several major gashes in his armour, but nothing more. Then Starscream had fled the battle, and his forces had followed him. Breaking from his reverie, Prime noticed Ratchet walking slowly toward him. The medic had a look of dissatisfaction on his face, and Prime was not surprised at what he was told next.

"Well, they're both stable", Ratchet sighed, his usual gruff demeanour absent, replaced with an air of resignation. "But it's going to take a long time, and a lot of work, before their self-repair systems will be able to handle things by themselves. Sunstreaker's gone into full stasis-lock, and Jazz isn't too far behind."

"You look as though you want to say something else", Prime prompted the medic gently.

"It's going to take a Pit-load of work to repair Jazz", Ratchet continued after a moment, "and even more luck if his spark is going to hold out until then. It would be a lot easier if we could, say, transfer him into a new body..." Ratchet trailed off, hoping that he had managed to get his point across.

"And you just so happen to have such a body?"

"Yes, sir. The Alternator prototype. It can be de-bugged and made ready enough to take Jazz's spark inside of three hours." Ratchet looked up at Optimus with hopeful optics; he didn't want to say it, but this procedure would be the best hope for Jazz.

"We know the technology works", he pushed on, "the twins are living proof of that. In fact, I'm willing to bet that it's _because _of the new armour and systems that Sunstreaker's only in stasis-lock, and not off-line completely. And if something isn't done for Jazz soon, well..."

"He isn't going to make it", Prime finished. The giant red and blue mech looked upward and heaved a great sigh, the sudden influx of cool air soothing his processors. After a second, he looked back down to Ratchet. "Do it. Take any help you need. If it will save him, then using the new technology is worth the risk. Contact me when it's done."

Ratchet gave Prime a curt nod, and turned back into the med-bay. Prime watched him go, then checked his internal chronometer. The local time read as two twenty seven in the morning. Prime knew that he should be recharging, but he had one last thing to do. The Autobot's problems had been two-fold in the last few hours. Not only had there been a major battle, but they had also received a visitor that claimed to be from the twenty-ninth century. More than that, he claimed to be a Prime, a leader, and that he was carrying a grave message for Optimus. The timing was too close to be coincidence; it all had to be connected to the Matrix of Power.

O o O o O

The observation room adjacent to the brig was empty, a fact that Prime was thankful for. He wanted to be able to observe the newcomer by himself for a while. He hadn't had a chance to visit the brig, and was surprised at what he saw. On the far side of the one-way glass, sitting cross-legged on the rust orange floor of his cell, was a mech that bore more than a passing resemblance to himself. The colouring was different, dull white replacing the segments that would have been red on Optimus, and the chassis was obviously different. But the face and eyes; there was a definite likeness. The strangers optics were off-line, and his battle mask was retracted. But Prowl had shown Prime a picture of the large mech's arrival, and with the mask in place the likeness became even more uncanny.

As Optimus watched this Artemis Prime, the blue and white mech slowly powered up his optics. He sat still for a moment, then slowly turned his head until he was staring directly at Optimus. It was impossible to see through the glass, and the room Optimus was standing in was supposedly shielded against standard scanning equipment. Nonetheless, Artemis was staring straight at him. Unconsciously, Prime shuffled sideways, changing his position. The gaze of his opposite number followed him, accurate as a laser beam, golden optics unwavering.

Prime would have to speak to the newcomer, but he realised that to do so now, undercharged, he would not be doing anyone any favours. He turned away from the security glass, and exited the room. From the cell in the neighbouring chamber, Artemis Prime watched him leave. His sensors were unable to tell who had been in the observation room, but he had a feeling as to who it might be. He knew that his timing had been poor, that he had been a little too late to stop the initial disaster. But he was here now; things were already beginning to change.

_Unnamed Island, Atlantic Ocean, ten miles south of Decepticon Warship 'Nemesis'_

"Megatron! You'll pay for this!"

Starscream's cry of fury rent the dawn air, quickly followed by a hail of null energy as the Seeker opened fire on his former master. Starscream and his forces, weighed down by their injured and the deceased form of his younger brother Skywarp, had known that they would need to recharge before reaching the Nemesis. A small depot of energon cubes had been waiting for them on a small, uninhabited island, along with some equipment for makeshift repairs. Mere minutes after they had landed, Megatron sprung his trap.

An opening shot from his fusion cannon had ignited the energon stockpile, just seconds after Starscream's forces had begun their much-needed recharge. They had been too close to the stockpile as it exploded, much too close. For an instant, the island was lit with the brilliance of a new-born sun, and then the world came crashing down around them. As the sky once more became dark, and Starscream began to pick himself up, something caught his immediate attention. Some distance away, slowly moving toward him, were a pair of glowing crimson optics.

Starscream's reaction was immediate and brutal. Howling curses at his attacker, the jet opened fire, his warriors quickly following suit. The air was filled with laser and plasma fire from both sides, and battle was joined. Starscream charged forward, the voice of the Matrix howling in his mind, echoing it with a roaring battle-cry of his own. Around him, Thundercracker and the Combaticons charged towards their attackers, heartened by the fact that there were so few.

Megatron was flanked by Soundwave on one side, and a jet that was easily identifiable as Dirge on the other. As Starscream and his forces charged, Megatron raised his cannon and fired, before running forward and to his left, firing as he went. Soundwave opened his chest compartment and sent six cassettes hurtling toward the enemy. Issuing terse commands, the dark blue mech raised his rifle and returned fire, assuming a defensive stance. Rumble and Frenzy took up positions either side of their creator, while Ravage joined Ratbat, Laserbeak and Buzzsaw in a more direct assault. Dirge, meanwhile, snapped off a handful of shots at the enemy, before converting to his jet form and taking to the air.

Starscream ran forward to intercept Megatron, noting as he did so that the flight capable members of the Combaticons had taken off to engage Dirge, while the other members had joined his brother in attacking Soundwave and his cassettes. Ahead of him, the large, chrome-white form of Megatron had stopped just short of the tree-line that edged the beach they were fighting over. Starscream checked his charge, slowing to a brisk march. Despite his lack of respect for Megatron as a leader, Starscream had every respect for his commander as a fighter, especially when the larger mech was cornered. As Starscream approached, Megatron spread his arms wide and issued a challenge.

"What do you say, Starscream?" Megatron purred mockingly. "I challenge you to a duel, leader to leader. Just like old times."

"I would remind you, Megatron", Starscream countered, "that last the time I challenged you, I won. What makes you think this time will be any different?"

"Because this time", Megatron snarled, his features twisting into a vicious sneer, "you'll have no choice but to face me yourself. There won't be anyone to do your dirty work. This time, it's you and me."

"That's what you think", Starscream countered, starting to walk slowly to his left. Megatron mirrored the movement, and the two began to circle one another in a dance-like motion. "I just sent for reinforcements. You think that Soundwave and Dirge will be able to hold off the Combaticons and Thundercracker, and you're probably right. But the Constructicons will be here in mere moments, and then this whole sorry affair will be over. And this time, I won't make the mistake of leaving you alive to trouble me ever again!"

At this last statement, Megatron began to laugh, the sound quickly rising from a low, soft chuckle to a full, mirthless rumble. It was entirely unnerving, and sent shivers down Starscream's dorsal processors. The unearthly noise made the Seeker stop in his tracks, a moments panic threatening to wipe the cocky expression from his face. Megatron stopped laughing, grinning sardonically, and for a second Starscream's world contracted. He was only vaguely aware of the sounds of a fierce pitched battle being fought further down the beach, of the sound of his own air intakes, of the ocean. He couldn't even hear the Matrix...

With that thought, Starscream suddenly took heart, and the device nestled deep in his chest responded. He could feel it's strength filling his limbs, hear its song pulsing through his conduits, and suddenly Megatron was no longer something he feared. As the sun rose over the combatants, it's first rays struck Megatron and made his armour blaze a hellish red, matching his optics. He was the epitome of terror incarnate, but for Starscream, he no longer amounted to anything. The mech that had haunted Starscream's every waking moment stood before the Seeker, and for the first time in millennia, Megatron held no control over his former subordinate.

_The Ark, Colorado, USA_

Artemis powered up his optics with a start, and sat upright with a jolt. For a few moments the small cell in which he had slept swam about in his vision, and he instinctively shut his optics down then re-started them. At first, he was unsure as to why he felt so panicked; his left hand was trembling, and his air intakes were working overtime to cool his agitated systems. Then, unbidden, the nightmare returned to him in full clarity, and he remembered. With a sigh, he fell back against the recharge couch, hoping and praying that if what he had planned worked, there would be no more need for nightmares.

The dream had been about an incident that had happened three years previously, from his point of view. He and his few friends and colleagues had just set up a new listening post, hoping to keep an eye on a nearby Decepticon fuel depot. It had been like this for far longer than he cared to recount, a guerilla war of attrition that the Autobots had little hope of winning. But they fought anyway, using every hit-and-fade tactic they knew, always on the run from the Decepticon hunter teams, always wondering when they would hear that last, fatal shell before the end came and the darkness finally took them.

His second in command, Bulkhead, had just finished setting up the station's sensor network. His weapons specialist, Feedback, had started arranging their weapons stores, and the field medic, Downshift, had just reported that a small cavern further into the asteroid they were hiding on would make an ideal triage centre. Everything had been going well; so far as they could tell, they had crept into the system without triggering any proximity alarms, and they were just about ready to start monitoring operations.

Ten minutes later, everything had gone straight to the deepest pits of the Inferno. The Decepticon's forces had attacked without warning; they had swept the perimeter defences aside with little or no effort, and the few warriors that stood in their way had barely slowed them down. Automated weapons drones, set up by Feedback, slowed them down as they reached the tunnel network, but Artemis knew they wouldn't hold the Decepticons forever. Not willing to risk any more lives, he ordered a full retreat.

And then _he _came.

He had walked through the last defences like they weren't even there. He strode, god-like, through the corridors of the base, destroying everyone and everything that crossed his path. Artemis had heard the energon freezing screams as Downshift and his team had been butchered. As he had led his own team toward the emergency escape craft, he had watched, horror stricken, as the enemy leader had simply walked though the reinforced wall as though it was made of paper. And he had watched helplessly as Bulkhead, his oldest friend and comrade, had roughly shoved Artemis into the escape pod and sealed the door. The massive mech was a fearsome warrior in his own right, utterly fearless, but compared to _him_... he might just as well have been a sparkling in the face of a storm.

Artemis was snapped out of his reverie by the sudden realisation that he was not alone. He sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the couch and turning to face the cell entrance. What he saw made his spark skip a cycle; a red and blue mirror image of himself was standing there, silently watching him. He so badly wanted to hear his voice, the familiar warming baritone that Artemis hadn't heard in what seemed like forever. Artemis stood, unsteady on his feet, and walked to the energy field that separated him from his visitor.

"My name is Optimus Prime", the towering mech said, whilst staring straight into Artemis' optics. His voice was stern yet kind, everything that Artemis had hoped. "My second in command tells me you also go by the title of Prime. Who are you, stranger, and why are you here?"

Artemis simply stood there, staring straight back at the ice blue optics in front of him. His mouth moved, working to form words, but nothing seemed to want to come out. Visibly shaking now, the white and blue mech stepped backward, his intense gaze roving over Optimus' form. He looked like he was trying to burn every last detail into his memory, clinging to the image like someone drowning clings to anything nearby, trying to stay afloat.

"What's wrong?" Optimus asked him, concern filling his voice. "If you truly are an Autobot, you have nothing to fear from anyone here, least of all me."

"It's not that I'm afraid", Artemis finally managed to say, his voice barely above a whisper. "It's just... I... you have no idea. No idea at all, how long its been... how many nights I've wished I could hear your voice just one last time."

"You know me?" Optimus watched as Artemis nodded at his question, then took a few steps closer to him, until he was mere inches from the security field.

"I would hope so", Artemis replied, his voice thick with emotion. "But you don't know me yet. I'm your son, Artemis."

* * *

Author's Notes: Well here it is, part two of Transformers: Renaissance. As a side note, you may like to know that the title loosely translates as "Crown of Night". You'll find out why later! 

Transformers and all associated characters are the property of Hasbro/HasTak Inc. Except for Artemis, that is; he belongs to Prime Revolver, and is used with very kind permission. Thanks again!

Bulkhead, Downshift and Feedback are mine, though if the names have been used before I apologise.

All reviews will be very much appreciated. Thanks for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

Corona Nox

Chapter Two

"_For I dip't into the future, far as human eye could see; saw the Vision of the World, and all the Wonders that would be..." - _Alfred Tennyson

_The Ark, Colorado, USA, z- ten days_

"My _son_? How is that even possible?"

Optimus Prime's sudden exclamation was understandable, if perhaps louder than intended. The words echoing around his mainframe, he staggered backward a few paces, and turned away from the security cell. On the other side of the energy field, Artemis Prime watched his father with expectant optics. He had expected a shocked response from Optimus, but he still found it jarring. In all truth, Artemis wasn't sure exactly what he _had_ been expecting, but this wasn't it. He had wanted, more than anything else, to be united with his creator. But at the same time, it brought back so many bad memories. And now, along with everything else he would have to achieve, he would have to convince his father that he was who he said he was.

"I'm sorry", he began, unsure on just how to start. He had been trying to figure this particular speech out for months, but, now that he was here, everything he had planned to say seemed to catch in his vocalizer. "I know this must be a shock. But please, believe me. I _am _your son."

"How can I know that to be true", came Prime's voice, soft and deep. He turned back to the cell and it's occupant, regarding him with a gaze that was both angry and sorrowful. "You claim to be from the distant future, with a message of grave danger. Then you refuse to tell anyone what that message is. You give us no proof that you are even from the twenty-ninth century, and now you claim to be my _son_!"

With the last words, Prime's voice rose to a roar. He strode back towards the cell, raising his right hand as he did so. Without checking his movement, he drove his fist into, then through, the forcefield controls. As the field dissipated, Prime stormed across the threshold, accelerating to a run as he did so. Bellowing like an enraged animal, Prime grabbed Artemis, hoisting him from the floor and slamming him into the rust-orange back wall of the cell.

"You _dare _speak of such things?" Prime yelled into his opposite number's faceplate, his optics wild with barely checked fury. "Tell me the truth! How can I possibly have a son, after the promises I made? If you are who you say you are, you'll give me a straight answer. Otherwise..." Prime let the threat hang unspoken.

"Orion wasn't your fault", Artemis finally mustered, gazing levelly into his father's optics. "I know about the promise you made yourself after he died. And I can understand why this came as such a shock, and why you reacted so violently. Put me down, and I'll give you all the answers you need".

With glacial slowness, Prime began to relax. Inch by inch, he lowered Artemis to the floor, then let go of him and stepped back a few paces. His voice failing him, Prime simply nodded, telling Artemis that he should continue. Quickly checking that he was still undamaged, Artemis moved to the recharge couch in the corner of the cell and sat down. Prime moved to the wall of the cell furthest from the white and blue mech, and waited for him to begin. He wasn't sure he would believe anything he heard, but it went against everything he believed in to not at least try. But Primus help the mech if he was lying.

"I was nine years old, Earth time, when you told me about Orion Maxima", Artemis began, his voice low. He saw Optimus tense at the name, but continued. "I remember the pain in your optics as you told me about my older brother, about how he had died not much older than I was at the time. You blamed yourself, that much was plain to see. It wasn't until five years later that I found out just how heavy the blame was. I can still see mother's sad expression when she explained it all, explained how, after Orion's death, you had sworn to her that you would not bring another sparkling into this life while the war still raged.

"Of course, my mother, the noble Elita-One, did as you asked. But it hurt her so badly. When you left her on Cybertron, and left on the Ark, it nearly tore her spark in two. I guess, in the end, she forgave you, because in two hundred years time you have me. As I said, Orion's death was not your fault, father. You are only one mech, and you can't be everywhere at once. It was a terrible tragedy, yes, and I can still see the pain in your optics. Let it go, father. Please?."

"So... so the war is finally over?" Prime whispered, almost as though afraid to let it all sink in. Everything Artemis had said had been true. Prime had never told anyone other than Elita about his feelings on the subject of their lost son, and no-one he knew had even known about Orion.

"Very nearly", came Artemis' solemn reply, "but not quite yet. We're losing."

"Then, why..."

"Am I here? Because things change. The Autobots needed hope. My creation gave them a small amount of that. I was the first of a few, born to the hope that we could one day turn the tide. Let me start from the beginning. In roughly ten days time, the Autobot/Decepticon civil war is going to take a violent new turn. A Decepticon, who calls himself Overlord, will rise to take control of the Decepticons. With Overlord as leader, the Decepticons begin to win the war. Slowly, at first, but before too long the Autobots are reduced to splinter cells and guerilla actions.

"By the time I was born, it was nearly all over. Cybertron was gone. Earth was gone. Oceanis, Corellon, Tygris Pax, Iacon Majora; every last one of them has been destroyed. A hundred years later, and you finally fell in battle, and it fell upon me to take up the mantle of 'Prime'. I've been doing my best since then, but five hundred years takes its toll on any force, no matter how good they are." As he finished, Artemis' voice was barely above a whisper. He sat with his shoulders slumped, and gazed listlessly into the distance, traces of liquid energon beginning to form at the edges of his optics.

"I'm sorry", Optimus said after a few moments. He took a few short steps forward, looking at Artemis thoughtfully. "I can't imagine how hard it must have been. I know how hard it is to lead in a war like this. But to be losing, with little or no hope... How many Autobots are left?"

"I am the last." The young mech's voice was so thick with sorrow that Optimus was sure that he couldn't be faking it. "The last handful of my troops, my friends, sacrificed themselves to buy me time to activate this." Artemis held out his left hand, and with a light flash brought a small, silvery half-sphere shaped device out of subspace. It had two tiny, inlaid panels near the flat side of the object, dimly lit with barely visible runescript. Optimus didn't recognise the alien text, but he was sure that who ever the original designers were, they were from a highly advanced race. A brief scan of its surface confirmed this.

"It took our best scientists the greater part of a century to even figure out what it is", Artemis said, looking up at Optimus with the ghost of a smile. "It's a temporal displacement device. In short, it can send one person on one trip through time, to one defined point and place. We think it was meant to allow free travel through time, but it was damaged when we found it."

"One trip? So, you can't go back?"

"No. This was a one way trip, either way. If I fail to stop Overlord, then this was all for nothing. If I succeed, then my present, your future, will cease to exist. And me along with it. But it's a price I am willing to pay, if it saves the lives of the many. Life is the right of all sentient beings."

If nothing else had convinced Optimus, these last words did it. He lowered himself to one knee, just in front of Artemis. He reached out, gently taking Artemis' chin in his hand and lifting his son's optics to meet his own. He took a few seconds to take in the features of the younger mech; every segment of his faceplate, every tiny dent or scar that spoke of centuries of war. Without his battle mask in place, Optimus mused, the boy looked so very much like his mother. He was convinced now; it was all true. It had to be.

"I have a son..."

_Unnamed island, Atlantic Ocean, ten miles south of Decepticon Warship 'Nemesis'_

As the sun rose, drenching the landscape in cold, unforgiving light, the Decepticon civil war came to a violent head. Megatron faced his former second in command, glaring hatefully at Starscream. Around them, heard but unheeded, the Combaticons and Thundercracker fought against a handful of Megatron's loyalists. The moment was perfect for the Decepticon leader; he lived for instants like this, when all perception slowed, focussing on the few seconds before the kill. He primed his fusion cannon, watching as Starscream raised his own weapons and prepared to fire.

The duelling giants were dragged back into the here and now by the scream of multiple jet engines. Both commanders snapped their gazes skyward, and both their expressions changed, Megatron's features bunching into a vehement scowl, Starscream's features breaking into a cruel smile. Above them, Starscream's reinforcements had arrived. The Constructicons had returned from the Nemesis, and brought several more warriors with them. Blitzwing and Astrotrain were there, along with Apeface, Snapdragon, Crankcase and Sixshot.

Megatron watched as they approached, silently counting out the seconds before they reached firing range. At the same time, he opened a private messaging link to Soundwave, sending a simple, single word signal. _Now_. In the distance, taking refuge behind one of the larger sand-dunes and trading shots with Thundercracker and Onslaught, Soundwave took his optics off his opponents just long enough to look over to his leader, and nod once. Smiling grimly, Megatron put his plan fully into action.

With a deafening war-cry, he threw himself at Starscream, using his greater mass to throw him to the ground. At the same time, Dirge, Soundwave and his cassettes threw themselves forward, taking their attackers by surprise. Seconds later, as the traitor reinforcements began to land, Megatron sprang his final trap. As soon as they landed, the sea began to boil, the waves bubbling and churning with movement. A huge, green head breached the surface, swiftly followed by the rest of the massive form of Snaptrap in his turtle form. As soon as his shell-mounted weaponry cleared the water, he opened fire, twin cannons hurling heavy calibre concussion shells into the traitor lines. The rest of his team joined him moments later, and the six sea monsters charged up the beach.

On the other side of the battlefield, the Predacons burst from the tree-line with a chilling series of bestial howls and roars. Tantrum and Rampage led the way, their sheer size and momentum a fearsome weapon in its own right, whilst Divebomb took to the air and rained shells down upon Sixshot and the Terrorcon twins. Pinned by Megatron's weight, and watching as his forces were quickly ambushed, Starscream loosed a scream of frustration.

Buried within his chest plate, the Matrix of Power answered him. Starscream heard its call, louder than ever before, and felt a surge of energy course through his systems. With new-found strength, he shifted himself around, and brought his hands up to Megatron's throat, squeezing for all he was worth. Megatron fought back, driving his fist into Starscream's faceplate once, twice, three times. He heard the metal squeal as though ready to give way, but Starscream's only response was to squeeze harder. In desperation, feeling the energon flow to his mainframe begin to slow, and his vision beginning to darken, Megatron rolled onto his back, taking Starscream with him. Bringing both his legs up beneath his enemy, he kicked out savagely and sent Starscream sprawling onto his back.

All around them the battle raged. At one end of the beach, the Seacons had teamed up with Soundwave and his various creations to take on the Combaticons, Astrotrain and Blitzwing. Each side had dug itself in, and a near solid wall of fire poured back and forth between the two groups. Tired of the tasteless ranged combat, Snaptrap decided to take matters into his own hands. He sent a few terse hand gestures in the direction of his demolitions expert, Tentakill, and the squid-beast transformed into his own robot mode. He produced a small, metallic disc from a subspace pocket, and gave a knowing look to Nautilator on his right. The scout gave a vicious grin in return, chuckling to himself at what would follow.

"Fire in the hole", Tentakill yelled, before hurling the seismic charge, one of Nautilator's own designs, straight at Blitzwing. A second later, a dull _thud_ sounded, followed by a wave of kinetic energy that threw the enemy warriors in all directions. At the same time, Snaptrap strode over the dune, followed by Jawbreaker and Seawing. Skalor, the last member of the team, remained behind with Nautilator and Tentakill to provide fire support.

Jawbreaker and Seawing were skilled melee fighters, and wasted no time in closing with the Combaticons. But Snaptrap was a true terror to behold. He walked, unhurried, toward Astrotrain, unsheathing his sword as he did so. The monomolecular tritanium blade glinted coldly in the dawn light, refracting small rainbow effects from it's near crystalline edges. As soon as the triple changer spotted the weapon, he brought a similar weapon out of a subspace pocket and took up a readied stance.

Snaptrap literally took him apart. His blade flashed in glittering arcs through the air, leaving Astrotrain looking simply stunned. He didn't move or react; he found quite quickly that he couldn't. The Seacon commander regarded him dispassionately for a moment, his yellow optics completely devoid of emotion, before planting a powerful kick against Astrotrain's midsection and sending the various severed components of his body scattering backward. With a derisive snort, Snaptrap moved on to his next victim.

Further up the beach, things were not looking so good for the loyalists. The Predacons were locked in close combat with the Constructicons, and the green and purple mechs had the upper hand. The traitors had been joined by Thundercracker, who had joined Apeface and Snapdragon in taking on Dirge and Divebomb in the air, while Sixshot had transformed to his tank form, and was trading heavy fire with Razorclaw. Hook and his companions were almost literally running circles around the remaining three Predacons; it would be over soon.

A ground shaking roar of anger rent the air, causing everyone nearby to stop fighting for a second and look up. As Hook did so, he saw that the shoreline was now dominated by the massive form of Bruticus. Faced with the raw fury of the gestalt creation, the Seacons were quickly moving into what appeared to be a fighting withdrawal. Encouraged by this idea, Hook decided that a second giant could do no harm to his cause, and called upon his own team.

"Constructicons, form Devastator!" he yelled. He felt the change immediately, as his body began to realign itself, preparing in quick order the various hard points that would allow him to merge with his fellows. Anti-gravity drives engaged, moving his reshaping form into its proper position. And finally, Hook felt the familiar pulse of connection, followed by the brief cacophony of five other minds touching his own, before it all slipped away, smothered by the slow, powerful thoughts of the monster they had become. Devastator powered up his optics, felt the power within his limbs that was so much greater than the sum of his parts. He threw back his head and howled a greeting at the dawn; Devastator was here, and he was a god amongst mortals.

Above it all, locked in their own private war, Megatron and Starscream both had stopped to watch the two giants form. Megatron felt a brief chill; his plan was working, but it now rested on the belief that the Seacons and Predacons were as good as they claimed to be. Starscream, for his part, was cackling maniacally, watching as the forces of his nemesis retreated, trying to get away from his two most powerful assets. As long as those blind fools followed him and his promises of power, he couldn't lose.

That belief changed a moment later. On the beachhead, the Seacons had moved into a close-knit formation, keeping themselves between Bruticus and Soundwave. Once they had gained enough distance from the giant's reach, Snaptrap gave an order of his own.

"Seacons, form on me", he cried. "Jawbreaker, take point. Unite!" With that, the Seacons began a change of their own, and mere moments later Skalor, Nautilator, Seawing and Tentakill had joined with their leader, merging into the colossal form of Pirahnacon. Jawbreaker waited a few sparkbeats, before transforming himself, twisting and reforming into a plasma rifle built to scale with the giant above him. Weapon in hand, Pirahnacon charged at Bruticus, firing as he went.

At the tree line, a similar scene was unfolding. Out of the contorting mess of metal and wires that the Predacons had become, the titan that was Predaking took shape. Brandishing his sword with far more grace than should have been possible for a creature of his size, Predaking made a brief knight's salute, before raising his weapon and charging at Devastator. As the four giants clashed, the ground itself shook with each footfall, and the smaller mechs beneath them had little choice but to move, or risk being destroyed by attrition.

Starscream's look of triumph quickly faded, changing to one of shock, then cold fury. He wheeled on Megatron, not even bothering to taunt his former master, and opened fire, hailing bolts of energy against his chrome-white form. Megatron returned in kind, his fusion cannon raining violet death upon Starscream's armour, and the pair were forced apart by the destructive energies they had unleashed. They fired again, each forcing the other to evade, weaving a deadly dance around the other. And between them both, ringing joyfully in the audio processors of both warriors, the siren cry of the Decepticon Matrix held sway.

"You cannot win, Starscream", Megatron sneered, his voice barely carrying over the sounds of combat. "The Matrix will never accept you. It knows me, has already accepted me, but you... you are not worthy. You are a weak-minded fool!"

"I beg to differ", Starscream retaliated, the pitch of his voice rising to match his namesake. "You are the weak one. I have defeated you, Megatron, thrown you down from power, and have taken my rightful place as Decepticon leader. Soon, I will rule all of Cybertron, and this pitiful excuse for a world, and all who stand before me will be crushed!"

Without warning, he stopped firing. With a swift gesture, Starscream opened his chest panel, and removed the Matrix from its new-found home. The ancient device's core glowed brighter,a poisonous green that drew in the optics. Starscream began to pull at the binding ring that enclosed the Matrix, trying to release it's full potential, struggling with all his might. But it would not move. Megatron smiled, sure of his impending victory.

"Why won't it open?" Starscream keened in frustration. "Why won't it accept me? I am worthy! It's mine, my own, and none shall take it from me! I will rule! I can not be defeated!"

And with that, the worst began to happen. The armour surrounding the Matrix began to move, slowly unleashing the power within. The core began to pulse, a deep thrumming sound like a vast heartbeat filling the air, vibrating the air around it. And, with a rising sense of horror, Megatron saw the last thing he had wanted to see; the same violent, green light that emanated from the Matrix was also glowing in Starscream's optics. The air commander fixed Megatron with a malevolent glare, the intent obvious in his gaze as he merged the power of the Matrix with his own spark, letting it fill him with unstoppable rage. It had accepted him.

Starscream had won. Megatron was doomed. And the galaxy, and anyone in it who tried to stop him, would burn...

* * *

Author's Notes: Hope that was to everyone's liking. If it shocked a little bit, even better! 

Transformers, and all associated characters, are the property of Hasbro/HasTak Inc., not myself. Pity. The following also belong to someone else: Iacon (the Majora part was mine), and Tygris Pax. Corellon and Oceanis are mine.

And last, but definitely not least, Artemis is on kind loan from Prime Revolver, my good friend. I just hope I can do her work justice.

Stay tuned, peeps! It's about to get a lot more interesting...


	3. Chapter 3

Corona Nox

Chapter Three

"_Abandon every hope, all ye who enter here..." - _Dante's _"Inferno"_

_The Ark, Colorado, USA, z- nine days_

The Ark was quiet. Sideswipe barely noticed the fact, but somewhere, deep down, he appreciated it. The med bay was all but empty, and only the soft hum of various pieces of observation equipment, and the distant shuffling of First Aid working in the office area were present to keep his thoughts company. The crimson Dodge Viper sat next to the bed at the end of the bay furthest from the door, gently holding the hand of its occupant. His twin lay there, completely still, and Sideswipe let out a sigh. He hated seeing Sunny like this, without a doubt.

It seemed that the pair were always in the med bay, for one reason or another. One or the other of the twins would be sporting some injury, and would be trading banter or outright arguing with whoever happened to be within earshot. The thought made Sideswipe smile, something he hadn't been able to do for a while. Feeling helpless wasn't something he was used to, and he knew full well that if he and his brother's positions were reversed, Sunstreaker would be trashing everything in sight, just to vent his frustration.

As Sideswipe began picturing just how mad Ratchet would be if he broke something, just to while away the time, he noticed a noise beginning to encroach upon the quiet around him. It was distant, barely audible, but Sideswipe instantly knew that it was heading his way. And it was going to be loud. As the noise got closer, it resolved itself into high pitched screaming, and with a spark of recognition, the young warrior put the pieces together. In a way, he was both intrigued and worried. He'd never encountered a human sparkling before.

Before long, the source of the offending noise made its way into the med bay. Daniel Witwicky, all of four months old, was a strange sight indeed so far as the red Dodge was concerned. Curled almost into a ball, huddled against his father's right shoulder, the infant was no more than a foot long, all soft edges and blue one-piece. His tiny, pink face was screwed up in obvious distress, one tiny fist half crammed into his mouth, which did nothing to lessen the volume of his crying. Spike stopped just inside the bay entrance, gently bouncing the baby up and down in his arms and making hushing noises, to little effect. When he spotted Sideswipe, he began to walk over.

"Hi Sideswipe", he called up, smiling weakly. The twenty-two year old looked tired, and Sideswipe correctly guessed that the baby had been keeping him awake. "How's Sunstreaker doing?"

"Not well", Sideswipe replied, sounding more exasperated than he meant to. "Ratchet says he's done all he can. Now we just have to wait. Erm, what's wrong with it?" he finished, motioning to Daniel, who was whimpering loudly, though far quieter than he had been. Spike looked from the mech to his son, then back again.

"Teething", he said with a half-grimace. When Sideswipe's only response was to raise his optic ridges a few inches, he tried to explain. "He's growing his first set of teeth. It can be somewhat... uncomfortable. That's why he's crying. You haven't met Daniel yet, have you Sides?" Sideswipe shook his head in the negative, and Spike turned slightly to give him a better view of the baby's face.

"In that case", he said, pride filling his voice, "let me introduce you to Daniel Archibald Witwicky. Danny, meet Sideswipe." He grinned briefly, before continuing. "Carly had to go out of town for a couple of days, and left me and Danny to fend for ourselves. So I brought him here. Unfortunately he's not having such a good day."

"I know the feeling", Sideswipe said to himself with a wry smile, as he slipped out of his chair and dropped to his knees next to the two humans. He found himself strangely drawn to the human protoform; it was, in its own way, sort of cute. He regarded the tiny, pink creature, and after a few seconds found himself asking a question that he never would have asked on a normal day. "Can I hold him?" Spike looked from the red mech, to his son, then back again. A slightly worried expression crossed his features before he spoke.

"I suppose", he said. "I mean, Bumblebee's been great with him; Danny falls asleep with 'Bee quicker than he does with me! Just be careful, okay?"

"No worries", Sideswipe said, in a distracted tone. He reached forward, armoured gauntlets that had destroyed more mechs than he cared to count carefully extending, gently grasping the infant and lifting him into the air. Sideswipe stood slowly, cradling Daniel in his hands, then lifted the baby boy up to eye level and smiled. "He's cute... for an organic", he said after a moment.

"Thanks", grinned Spike, "I'll take that as a compliment." He watched, only slightly concerned, as the young Autobot cradled Daniel against his chest plate, and began mimicking the gentle bouncing technique he had seen Spike using earlier, still grinning to himself. Ten seconds later, the illusion broke as Daniel began to cry again, far louder than he had been before. Spike immediately began to assure Sideswipe, who looked somewhat panicked, that he hadn't done anything wrong. Sideswipe began apologising, and offering to hand Daniel back to Spike.

"You're holding him wrong", said a quiet voice. Amidst the general commotion, neither Sideswipe or Spike had noticed Sunstreaker sit up slowly, and come to a rest with his arms behind him, propping the yellow mech upright. At the sound of his voice, Sideswipe instantly spun to face his brother, a mixture of worry and elation filling his features. His mouth worked silently, his vocalizer emitting half strangled gasps as he struggled with what to say. The elder twin regarded Sideswipe with something that almost resembled affection, before giving him a much more Sunstreaker-like look of mild derision. He swung both legs over the edge of the bed, before leaning forward and stating "Poor little fragger's gonna scream his vocalizer out. Come here."

And with that, the feared warrior, scourge of countless Decepticons and not a few Autobots, reached out and gently took Daniel. Sunstreaker leaned him against his chest plate, and began slowly running the thumb of his right hand down the baby's back in a slow rhythm. A few seconds passed, and the screaming lessened, then stopped altogether. Sunstreaker graced Daniel with a rare smile, then looked at Spike and his brother.

"So how long was I out this time?" he asked, his voice sounding as tired as he looked.

"Too damn long", came Sideswipe's quiet reply. "How do you feel?"

"Like a Dinobot used me for a chew-toy", Sunny grinned. He noted the serious expression on his brother's face, and said more quietly "I'm fine, Sides. Really."

"Good", came Sideswipe's reply, his voice quickly rising in pitch. "That means Ratchet will have less work to do when I kick your aft. What in the deepest circles of the Pit possessed you to pull a stunt like that?"

"Shh, think of the baby!" Sunstreaker said with a smirk.

"I don't care. Give me an answer, Sunny, or Primus help me..."

"I thought they'd got you." The simple statement stopped the red mech's tirade before it could even start. It was completely serious, completely devoid of any of Sunstreaker's usual swagger. "When I saw you drop like you did, I thought Thundercracker's sonic pulse had hit you. You just fell... and it felt like my whole world stopped. I couldn't bare the thought of you not being around, and..." He let the words hang in the air, waiting for a response.

"Oh. I... I'm sorry. I didn't know", Sideswipe muttered, stunned. He almost couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"I know, little brother. I mean, after all", Sunny continued, his serious tone evaporating suddenly, "I need someone to stop me from having all the fun!" Sideswipe couldn't help but smile at this, and simply stood for a moment, regarding his twin.

"If you'd rather I took Danny and left you guys to it.." Spike began, breaking the silence. The twin mechs looked down at him, suddenly reminded of his presence. Sunstreaker gave him a crooked smile.

"Nah", he said, before giving a meaningful look at his twin. "I think it's all said and done."

"Amen to that", Sideswipe agreed. "Amen to that."

O o O o O

Jazz was only dimly aware of voices, floating just beyond the darkness. If he concentrated, he could almost make out what they were saying; but most of him didn't want to. Concentrating wasn't even in his vocabulary at the moment. _Heck_, he told himself, _I 'aint even sure 'vocabulary' is in my vocabulary! _Nothing mattered. Alone in the dark, he found he didn't care much about anything. Not the strange voices, or the noises that sometimes accompanied them, not even the singing...

He tried listening to the singing. It was almost painful, yet strangely exhilarating. It chilled him to the core, yet was somehow comforting to him. He didn't know what it was, but at the same time knew that he needed it, somehow. Like the ghostly voice was giving him life. Maybe it was, he didn't know. It sang of sorrow so great that his spark threatened to collapse upon itself, it sang of violence and pain so great that he wanted to weep. And it sang of power. Power so great, so unrivalled, that his whole body cried with the sheer joy of it. He needed it, he realised. He fed upon it. So why, then, did it repulse him so?

In the distance, he heard another one of the voices. At first, he could barely make it out over the song. But it grew, pushing the song into the corners of his dark little world, and slowly but surely the voice began to coalesce into words. Or, at least, _a_ word. _Jazz_, it said,over and over. It echoed, getting louder and louder, the cacophony hurting his audio receptors. _Jazz. Jazz. Jazzjazzjazzjazzjazzjazzjazzjazzjazzjazz..._

With a start, Jazz lurched forwards against his restraints, powering up his optic as he did so. _Optic? That 'aint right_, he thought, quickly shutting down his visual systems and restarting them. Again, he powered up his optic, and the singularity of the action startled him. He could make out a blue plated face a few feet from his own, the source of the voice. And slowly, as the voice became clearer, it all came back to him. The mission to New York, the Matrix, Starscream; the memories came flooding back, leaving Jazz reeling. Slowly, he became aware that the blue face was still talking to him, and in a flash he recognised his surroundings, and Optimus Prime standing before him.

"Jazz? Can you hear me?" Prime asked, his voice low. He had seen the protoform's optic sensor activate, but there had still been no response. He was about to try again, when he heard a brief static burst and the first scratchings of a voice.

"Pr... Immmme... Prime? Wheere... where am I?"

"Easy, Jazz. You're in Wheeljack's lab. How do you feel?"

"Don't... don't feel right", Jazz managed after a second.

"I know. We couldn't save your body, Jazz. I'm truly sorry. We had to transfer you to a new body; the Alternator prototype. We're still debugging the neural network, then as soon as you're up to speed we'll get the body form-fixed."

"Prime, I'm sorry", Jazz said, cutting his commander off mid-thought. His vocaliser sounded tinny and flat, but it still managed to carry the remorse that Jazz felt. Prime nodded slowly at his words, then gave him a reassuring smile.

"Jazz", he said in his warmest voice. "You did everything that you could. More, even. That is the whole reason that I picked you for this assignment. And for that, I am proud of you. And I thank you, my friend. There is no reason for you to apologise."

_Decepticon Lunar Outpost, Mere Crisium_

Megatron sat alone in the command room, deep in thought. Around him, the outpost's computer systems hummed quietly to themselves, data displays and control panels providing most of the light for the room, and producing the only noise. It was almost serene, a far cry from the thoughts swirling around Megatron's neural network. They all focussed upon the previous day, and the crushing defeat he and his forces had suffered at the hands of Starscream. It had been short, violent and utterly brutal.

But what worried Megatron most was that the defeat had come, not at the hands of Starscream and his forces, but the hands of Starscream. By himself. The raw power the traitor had managed to unleash had been truly terrifying to behold. Megatron had been convinced that the Matrix of Power would not accept Starscream, that he would be too weak, too unworthy. And he had been proven totally, unequivocally wrong. And his forces had paid for that mistake dearly. He could see it all too clearly...

Starscream, hovering before him, optics glowing a venomous green. Megatron had remembered then, recalling the power that he had known as the Matrix of Power's master. He knew what Starscream was feeling at that particular moment in time, and as a result, he knew precisely what was coming next. Up to that point, Starscream had been wrestling with the armour containing the Matrix, cursing, pleading and screaming for it to open, to share its power. And as it had, finally, and Starscream's optics had taken on their new colour, Megatron felt two things: terror, and envy.

In short order, Starscream had ended the battle. The surreal sight of the air commander, flying at full speed, ramming the midsection of Pirahnacon and breaking the gestalt apart would stay with Megatron for a very long time. Not a single one of the loyalists had escaped undamaged, but miraculously there had been no actual casualties. As soon as the last of Megatron's forces had been disabled, Starscream had ordered a withdrawal of his own warriors. But not before he had delivered a chilling soliloquy, telling the battered remnants that the only reason they were alive was to witness his ascension to supremacy...

Starscream had to be stopped. There were no two ways about it. The question was, how? For a brief, horrifying instant, Megatron's thoughts were drawn to Optimus Prime, and his Matrix of Leadership. After all, they had beaten Megatron when _he _had owned the Matrix of Power, at the very beginning of the War. If he could arrange for some kind of truce... no. The very idea made Megatron feel like purging his intake valve. He would have to do this his own way. And Primus help Starscream when he finally got his revenge...

_High Council Chambers, Axalon District, Iacon City, Cybertron_

Councillor Arcturis ran for his life, ancient servos and drive systems whining in complaint as he did so. The corridors of the council building echoed with his frantic footsteps, his rasping intakes of air bouncing in random directions from the marble lined walls and columns, accentuated by an upper gallery and a high vaulted ceiling. Behind him, he could make out the sounds of his pursuers, their multiple footfalls loud against the silence. He had to escape them; if they learned what he knew, all could be lost. And so he ran, as hard and as fast as his frail chassis would allow. In the distance, he could hear the Decepticons getting closer.

"I know you're there, Councillor" The voice of the invader's leader rang out, the acoustics of the opulent hallway lending his words a cold, harsh clarity. "I can hear your spark pulsing in your chest. I can smell the energon coursing through you systems. Rest assured, ancient one, I will hunt you down." The voice drove a spike of fear into Arcturis' spark, and he redoubled his efforts to escape his would-be captors.

Suddenly, the sound of one of the windows in the upper gallery smashing inwards brought him to a halt, a hail of armourcrys shards raining down onto the lower hallway. The glass-like fragments were followed by a large, vaguely humanoid form, which crashed into the floor a few metres ahead of Arcturis, shattering the mosaic floor with it's impact. The purple and white, gorilla-shaped mech glared at the Councillor with muted red optics for a second, before raising itself up on its hind legs, hammering its fists into its chest plate and loosing an animalistic roar. Apeface dropped back to rest on his knuckles, savouring the fear on his quarry's features. As Arcturis turned on his heels and ran the way he had come, the Terrorcon grinned feraly, before spitting a gobbet of fuel primer onto the floor. He didn't need to chase the mech; he'd be back soon enough.

True enough, less than thirty seconds later a terrified scream tore through the air, and Councillor Arcturis ran back into sight. An instant later, the corridor was lit up bright as Earth's sun, and the Councillor was wreathed in green-white plasma, which sent him sprawling across the floor. Before he could move, Apeface pounced, roughly hoisting him into the air and hurling him into the nearest wall. He transformed to his robot form, and stood there, leering at the prone form of his slowly recovering victim as his brother, Snapdragon, stalked into the shaft of light that framed the scene.

"I think you broke him", Snapdragon smirked, as he too converted to his robot form.

"'Aint my slaggin' fault", Apeface growled in reply, before grinning stupidly. "Stupid frakker shouldn't a landed on 'is 'ead, should he? Besides, you settin' 'im alight probably didn't help."

"That's quite enough", Starscream interrupted them, eliciting a mumbled "Sorry, boss" from the twins. Emerald optics glared at them from the shadows for a moment, before continuing. "Snapdragon, do me a favour and sit our guest up, would you?" Snapdragon complied, roughly hoisting Arcturis into a sitting position and leaned him against the wall. Slowly, the Councillor began to come around, then snapped alert with a gasp.

"What... what do you want from me", he quailed.

"You know very well what I seek", Starscream hissed, stepping slowly into the light, his optics flashing dangerously. "Tell me where it is, and I may let you live."

"I will never tell you", Arcturis said, his voice slowly gaining an edge of conviction. "You will never find it."

"My dear Councillor, that was a dreadful mistake", Starscream answered menacingly, dropping onto one knee in front of the older mech. "You _are_ going to tell me where I can find the Matrix of Combination. You are going to tell me everything you know about the legend of the Teardrops of Primus, seeing as Councillor Quixis proved to be so useless. And then, when I am finally tired of hearing you scream, you will be allowed to die..."

* * *

Author's Notes: Well, I'm not amazingly happy with it, but it does its job. (Deep sigh). Not an easy one to write, this one. On to the usual suspects: 

Transformers and all related characters/locations are the property of Hasbro/HasTak Inc., not myself. On hindsight, that's probably a good thing; I mean, who wants a Dinobot trampling their back yard, right?

Councillors Arcturis and Quixis are mine. If they bear any resemblance to anyone else's work, it's purely coincidental. Please don't sue me!

And last, but by no means least, Artemis is the property of my good friend Prime Revolver (though I did get to add the 'Prime' bit :) ) Thanks again, sis.

Chapter four coming soon, I hope!


	4. Chapter 4

Corona Nox

Chapter Four

"_What's past is prologue..." - _Human Proverb

"_What is past, is sometimes also the future..."_ - Minbari Proverb

_The Ark, Colorado, USA, z- eight days_

_He stood alone, taking in the Cybertronian sky-line, the faint traces of stars showing near the horizon. How long had it been, how long since he had stood in this place..._

Part of Optimus Prime realised that it was a memory at the least, a dream at most. Praxim City had not looked this _whole_ in literally millions of years. But still, it was so very real. The bone-white towers, the gleaming metacrete roads, the milling crowds; it was exactly as he had remembered. Even the two figures standing nearby. One looked as beautiful as she had the last time he had seen her, not a few months before. But then, Elita-One had always been beautiful. The mech she was talking to was also familiar, but less so. Looking at his own past life, at the transformer that had been Orion Pax, Prime found himself wondering if he really had looked that young.

With a start, he realised exactly what day he was seeing. It was a few days before the war began; the war as he knew it. The Decepticons would soon return from their banishment from Cybertron, and Megatron would throw off his position as a prominent member of Cybertron's council to become the traitor's war-leader. But that was nearly a week away. Today would witness a much more important event for Optimus. Today, Orion Pax and Elita-One would become bond partners. He watched, as the familiar and warming smile crossed Elita's face, and she threw her arms around the neck of her young partner. He had asked the most important question of his life, and the answer had been yes, without any hesitation.

The dream began to shift, displaying further scenes from Prime's past. He saw the day he was re-born as Optimus Prime, after a Decepticon attack had nearly destroyed Orion Pax, and the rebuilt mech had been promoted to lead the Autobot defences. He remembered the pride he had felt; there had not been a Prime for nigh on two centuries... The scene changed, and he was standing in a brightly lit med-bay, holding his most treasured possession; a tiny sparkling, his first born son. He looked deeply into the bright blue optics of the infant, feeling his spark swell with love for his progeny, and speaking the name he and Elita had chosen for him aloud for the first time. _Orion Maxima_...

And then, the dream turned to a nightmare, as it moved to the single worst day of Optimus Prime's life. He had been called to Iacon City to fend off a vicious Decepticon attack, not knowing that it was part of a three-pronged assault. He had taken many of Praxim's defence forces with him, moving quickly to defend the capital city. During the fighting, he had been told that Praxim and Charis had been hit by similarly sized attacks, and in his horror at the news he had fled the front lines at Iacon, making best speed for his home. _He had been far too late..._

Prime jolted upright, a sudden, involuntary gasp escaping his vocaliser. It took a few moments to get his bearings, but slowly he came around. He was in his quarters, sitting on his recharge couch, and the only sounds punctuating the dark were the soft air intakes of his son, mingled with his own startled gasping. Prime looked over to the large form of the room's other occupant, and a quick scan assured the Autobot leader that he had not woken Artemis from recharging. Calming down, Optimus resumed his original laying position, powering down his optics and trying to re-engage his recharge cycle.

It didn't work. As soon as the cycle restarted, the dream came rushing back to him. Not for the first time, his memories forced him to endure the same emotions he had been forced to grapple that day. Anger, both at himself and the enemy, hatred for the Decepticons and everything they stood for. The initial fear for his bond partner and son, the elation at finding them, followed by the crushing, soul-destroying grief... he had held the lifeless form of his infant son, staring into shining blue optics that would never again see... and for a long, long time, his rage had consumed him. It may have been long ago, but the wounds had never really healed.

Sighing to himself, Prime rose quietly from his bed, and slipped as noiselessly as possible from his quarters. He knew it wasn't the boy's fault that he had triggered these thoughts in Optimus. But even so, the thought of sharing space with a son that he had never known was disconcerting to Prime, and understandably so. As he wandered the corridors, looking for something, anything, to occupy him, he thought back on the decisions that had led him to this point: his decision with Elita-One not have any more children, his leaving her behind when he left on the _Ark_, and his barely talking to her since. All because being with her had been too painful. Looking back, maybe it hadn't all been such a good idea after all.

O o O o O

Jazz powered up his optics, and was more than a little relieved to find that there were two of them. As he brought his systems on-line, he watched as his internal displays flickered to life and showed him everything there was to know about his inner workings. As he began to take in his surroundings, still the inside of Wheeljack's lab, he noticed that his vision was a little sharper than usual; moments later he came to the realisation that everything was a little sharper. His audio sensors, his internal processors, even his thoughts, seemed to be just that little bit quicker, smoother even.

Testing his motor functions, he found that he was not restrained to where he was laying. He lifted his right hand, and flexed his fingers, wiggling them in front of his optics. Jazz smiled to himself as he watched the black gauntlet ball into a fist, then release, revelling in the sensation of being able to move again, of being alive. He sat up after a few more moments, and began to take stock of his surroundings. He was glad to see he was not alone, as Wheeljack was sitting at his desk, watching Jazz and smiling behind his face mask.

"How are you feeling, Jazz", Wheeljack asked, as he moved over to the saboteur's side.

"Fine", Jazz replied, grinning widely at the scientist. "Better than fine! I reckon I could be gettin' used to this... I haven't felt this... this... strong in I don't know how long!"

"That'd be the system upgrades talking", Wheeljack said cheerily, returning his friend's smile. "You'll get used to it. But that's not the impressive part. You should try transforming!"

Jazz hadn't thought about that. He looked down, admiring what he could see of his new form past his chest plate. The silver, forward-swept section of armour had all the tell-tale signs of a sports car, but he didn't recognise the make. It wasn't a Porsche, that was for certain. Suddenly feeling excited, like a sparkling about to open a creation-day gift, Jazz hopped down from the observation couch he had been resting on, and found a relatively clear section of the science lab to transform in. Giving Wheeljack one last, excited look, he converted to his new alternate mode.

"What do you think?" Wheeljack asked after a few seconds, listening with some satisfaction as Jazz revved his engine loudly and happily.

"It's cool", Jazz said, the joy in his voice verifying the statement. "But, er, what is it? I don't think I've seen one of these before."

"It's a Mazda RX-8", said Wheeljack proudly. "It took us ages to pick a form we thought you'd like. This one was Bumblebee's idea. He said it had the right amount of style."

"And he was so right", Jazz enthused again, brimming with delight at his new form. "Thanks so much, 'Jack. I owe ya one. I owe all of you."

_Decepticon Lunar Outpost, Mere Crisium_

The modest training arena rang with the sound of clashing blades, a rhythmic tattoo that pulsed in time with Megatron's energon flow. He watched from one of the observation balconies, high enough above the sparring warriors that he wouldn't easily be seen. Down in the duelling pit, Snaptrap and Soundwave were testing each other's skill with a sword. From where Megatron stood, his old friend was losing. Soundwave just didn't know it yet.

The indigo communication officer was putting up a decent fight, to be fair. His style was clean and precise, free of unnecessary flourishes or wasted movements. Although he preferred ranged combat, where his logic and accuracy came more readily into play, Megatron and a few others knew that Soundwave was actually quite skilled with a sword; just one more thing on a list of many that the private mech did not easily let on. He practised against sparring drones on a regular basis, and had even beaten Megatron on occasion. But, compared to his opponent, he was a rank amateur.

Despite his size, Snaptrap was preternaturally graceful, quick and fluid where Soundwave was measured and controlled. He swung his custom-built sword easily in swooping arcs, only using his right hand on the grip, his left hand clenched firmly behind his back. Every so often, he would attempt to throw Soundwave off balance with a carefully timed feint or a lightning fast riposte, toying with his prey as a cat would a mouse. And even though Soundwave was probably reading his mind, and had the advantage of knowing what Snaptrap was going to do next, everyone watching could see that the outcome was inevitable. Well, almost everyone.

Of the small crowd that had assembled to watch the fencing match, one group in particular was very loudly supporting Soundwave, cheering him on and jeering at the Seacon commander, which in itself was a dangerous pastime. Snaptrap had been known to incinerate his own troops for perceived insubordination, after all. Nonetheless, Frenzy and Rumble were lending as much vocal support as possible to their creator, while Ravage, Laserbeak, and Ratbat prowled the arena perimeter. There was no sign of Buzzsaw. On the other side of the arena, the more enterprising members of the Seacons had started a betting pool, and were hence being almost as vocal in their support of Snaptrap.

The net result was an almost buoyant atmosphere, which surprised Megatron considering the present circumstances. He knew that he should be holding a war council, planning his next move with the force commanders, deciding how to deal with Starscream. But, in the end, he knew the importance of morale, and this distraction would serve that purpose well. He allowed himself a brief smile, as the jeering from the combatants' supporters reached a crescendo, and the duel came to a jarring conclusion.

Soundwave had to have seen it coming, but could do little to avoid it. Snaptrap was just too fast. The Seacon commander drove forward, bringing his sword round in a sweeping backhand arc level with Soundwave's head. The communications officer did the only thing he could, which was to duck, leaving him off balance. Snaptrap continued with his forward momentum, propelling himself forward with his left foot, and driving the right one into Soundwave's chest plate. The kick sent Snaptrap's opponent sprawling across the training arena floor, whilst Snaptrap himself seemed to simply glide to a halt, lowering himself gracefully onto one knee. He deftly spun his sword in his hand, reversing the grip and bringing the blade point to a rest against the ground.

"Well fought", Soundwave managed after a second, slowly dragging himself to his feet and ignoring the dejected cries from his creations as they swarmed into the arena to offer him moral support. The indigo mech nodded once to his erstwhile opponent, then turned and left, the matter closed for discussion. It was the closest Soundwave would come to showing disappointment at his defeat.

"Well fought indeed", Snaptrap replied quietly, before rising silently and exiting the arena through the second doorway. No-one followed him; his team were too busy collecting their winnings from Rumble and Frenzy, and the other Decepticons were either too afraid of him to follow, or else were otherwise engaged. In truth, Snaptrap enjoyed the solitude. Being part of a gestalt team had it's perks, but privacy wasn't one of them.

The green and purple warrior eventually found his way to the station's armoury. On entering, he walked to one of the storage containers, and quickly selected a few pieces of equipment for sharpening and polishing his sword. He took a seat on one of the few benches that had been provided, de-subspaced the weapon, and began the soothing task of maintaining its ultra-sharp tritanium blade. Snaptrap found some small enjoyment from the simple act; he had spent countless thousands of years perfecting the art of war, and this was for him that practice in its simplest, purest form. After a few moments of quiet meditation upon the fight he had just taken part in, Snaptrap became aware that he was no longer alone.

"What do you want, Megatron?" Snaptrap asked without looking up or stopping what he was doing. His voice was low and calm, but somehow managed to convey a fair degree of menace. He did not like being disturbed, and Megatron briefly wondered if this had been a good idea.

"Just to talk, one warrior to another", the Decepticon leader replied after a moment, his voice deliberately light. Snaptrap remained sitting with his back to the commander. "In particular, to discuss how to dispose of that insufferable fool, Starscream". This last comment was met by a humourless snort from Snaptrap, who still had yet to look up and acknowledge Megatron's presence.

"Ah, the perennial question, then", the older mech said after a few sparkbeats. His deep, resonant voice echoed little in the confined space of the armoury, riddled with pent-up power. After a few seconds, he lowered the sword and sharpening tool into his lap, and looked up and to his right, allowing Megatron a view of the profile of his face. "What did you want to know?"

"I think you already know."

"Is it worth the risk? Undoubtedly. Prime and his Matrix have beaten the Matrix of Power before. And if we don't help them achieve that end, then Starscream will probably ensure that the Prophecy comes true. And we watch Cybertron burn from a distance."

"You believe the Prophecy, then?" Megatron asked incredulously.

"Why not?" Snaptrap countered, rising slowly and reverentially placing his weapon on the bench. "Remember your ancient teachings. The Prophecy reads one of two ways; in one translation, when the Matrices are united by the Chosen One, then an age of prosperity will end the great war. In the other translation, the united Matrices herald the end of Cybertron, and the galaxy falling in flames. What do you think will happen if Starscream manages to get hold of the remaining two Matrices? Do you really think he will usher in a new Golden Age?"

"What aren't you telling me, Snaptrap?" Megatron asked, glaring straight into the Seacon commander's yellow optics. His malevolent gaze was countered by an ice cold stare, showing that Snaptrap in no way found Megatron intimidating.

"The Prophecy is coming true", Snaptrap stated simply, taking a few steps forward, moving close enough that Megatron could hear him whisper what he said next. "I received word from some of my sources back on Cybertron. Starscream is there, and has been attacking the older members of the High Council. They say he is looking for something."

Megatron took a pace backward, stunned to his core. He couldn't remember a time when any news had hit him this hard. The possibilities running through his processors were unthinkable, terrifying...

"He's going after the Matrix of Combination", Megatron stuttered, and Snaptrap nodded simply. "Then that settles it. Starscream must be stopped, at any cost."

"'The enemy of my enemy is my friend', they say", Snaptrap said. "So we use the Autobots. And then, when all is done and the Autobots are on their knees..."

"We finish the war. Once and for all."

_'The Vaults', Southern Continent, Cybertron_

The night air rang with the sounds of battle, barking gunfire and the staccato death-cries of Autobot militia music to Starscream's audio pick-ups. His forces swept forward around his still form, reaping a vicious toll amongst the enemy. Fires had broken out amongst the buildings that had housed the defence forces, and the light cast eerie shadows and reflections across Starscream's armour, granting him the look of some Faustian devil. He watched, impassive, green eyes ablaze, as Devastator and Bruticus cut a swathe through the massed troops, followed closely by the triple-changers and the Terrorcon twins. The Autobot forces fought bravely, but they were between reinforcement shifts, and were not prepared for the ferocity of the attack.

The Vaults were a vast network of artificial caverns, found deep in the crust of Cybertron's main southern continent. For thousands of years, the caves had been used for a number of things, as a data repository, a fuel depot, and eventually a sizeable city had grown around the place; which had apparently housed a well stocked Autobot garrison. When Starscream had found out about the other thing that the High Council had stored here, the reason for that garrison, he had laughed out loud. It was indeed the very last place he would have thought to look...

As the final defender screamed his last, cut short as Apeface literally tore him in two, Starscream surveyed the scene. The very deepest tunnels of the Vaults had been well guarded, and not just by warriors and automated defences. The place he had been seeking was deep in a complex labyrinth of caverns and passageways, each turn housing sensor jamming devices, forcefield generators, carefully laid minefields and hidden pitfalls. And at the very end, a vast cybertronium/adamantium door blocked the path. The Autobots had died defending this place. This was it. He was here.

With a gesture, Starscream sent forward the two giants, the only mechs present short of himself with the strength to break through the thick, armoured portal. He watched as Bruticus and Devastator went to work, massive gauntlets beating against the age-worn surface, tearing at any finger hold they could find. Slowly, inexorably, the doors began to give way, then buckle. Finally, with a shriek worthy of any banshee, the metal began to break apart. Once the path was cleared, the two huge creations stepped back, respectfully allowing Starscream to be the first to cross the threshold.

"Wait here", he commanded, and his soldiers backed away from the door slightly as Starscream crossed into the cavern beyond. It was surprisingly small, and was lit by a cluster of arc-lights set into the ceiling, the white light setting the shadows at odd, unnatural angles. This place, this _reliquary_, held some of the most ancient artefacts known to the transformers as a race. Ancient armour that had been worn by the first Prime, a vast antique computer from the very earliest days of the Golden Age. And in the centre of it all, sat a plain, unadorned box, made out of an unidentifiable material.

Starscream approached the box tentatively, thrilling as he realised the moment was upon him. He stood for a moment, gently tracing the outline of the container with his fingertips, enjoying the sensation of realised destiny. With the utmost care, he moved his hands to the locking mechanism, and keyed the controls. A soft _hiss_ escaped into the air as the seals of the box broke, and air that hadn't been disturbed for millions of years broke free. Slowly, he began to lift the lid...

The pain was unreal. The plainsong of the Matrix of Power increased in power suddenly, with no warning. As the ancient device greeted its brother, screaming its approval, the violence of the reaction tore through Starscream as real as any weapon. He bent, doubled, clutching at his spark, an agonized groan escaping his vocalizer. The reverberating cry of the two Matrices echoed round the room, and into the corridors beyond. Some of the waiting Decepticons began to rush forward, ready to defend their commander, but he ushered them back. Slowly, he began to stand once more, and began to exert his will over the two powerful artefacts.

The screaming began to pass, then stopped altogether. Starscream reached out and closed the box once more, shutting away the Matrix of Combination. He would merge the two devices later, when he was better prepared. He lifted the container, and prepared to leave, but stopped as something caught his eye. Something had gleamed golden in a far corner of the chamber, and he decided to investigate. What he saw there was beautiful, far more so than the two ancient artefacts that he held.

It was a crown. It was made of a golden material, three spires rising from the back and sides, a larger spire protruding from the front, and each was set with blood red rubies. All at once, it inspired a sense of power and dread in Starscream, and thoughts of power and rulership filled his mind. The councillors had not mentioned this; no-one had ever mentioned that the fabled Crown of Night even still existed... and now it would be his...

* * *

Author's Notes: Sorry it's not the most exciting chapter in the world, and a little drabbly in places, but it was a necessary evil. Honest! 

Transformers and all associated characters are the property of Hasbro/HasTak and their associates, not myself. Orion Maxima, Praxim and Charis are mine, my own, my precious! And finally, Artemis Prime is used with kind permission from Prime Revolver, to whom I am eternally grateful. Chapter five coming soon!


	5. Chapter 5

* * *

Corona Nox 

Chapter Five

"_And he stood before them, the Crown of Night upon his brow; those before him knew that here lay their futures. Here lay their dooms..."_ - Excerpt, 'The Tear-drops of Primus'

_The Ark, Colorado, USA, z- seven days_

As Artemis Prime observed the conference room, taking in the faces of the gathered warriors, he felt a small surge of panic. He recognized a few of them, either from meeting them in his past, or from pictures his parents had shown him. In a way, it was like sitting in a living version of the Hall of Heroes back on Cybertron. Being next to these legends, knowing what he was about to tell them, he wasn't sure if he feared the delivery or the response more. He saw his father stand to begin addressing the group, and briefly their optics met. Optimus smiled reassuringly, setting Artemis at ease.

"Gentlemen", Optimus began, his voice carrying easily over the terse conversations of the others. "If you would please be seated, we will begin." The room quietened immediately, and those mechs still standing took their places at the large table that dominated the room.

"Thank you", Prime continued. "I would like to start by apologising for the secrecy surrounding this meeting. Some of you know parts of the events that have transpired over the past few days, leading up to our battle against Starscream and his forces. So our first order of business is to clear a few things up. As most of you know, Jazz, Sunstreaker and Sideswipe were sent on a mission to New York. What none of you knew was the reason. This is it."

Prime keyed a few commands into the in-built console on the table, and the lights dimmed. A second later, and a holographic projection of the Matrix of Power shimmered into life. A collective gasp rippled around the room's occupants as the object was instantly recognised. Prime noted, with a pang of guilt, the pained expression that crossed Jazz' features. As silence descended over the room once more, Prime continued talking.

"This image is not what you think", he said, his voice lowering, not quite to a whisper. "Many of you will recognise this as the Matrix. Put simply, it isn't. At least, not the one you know of, the Matrix of Leadership, or the Matrix of Life. Rather, this is it's sibling, the Matrix of Power."

"Damn, Prime", Ironhide cut in, voicing the question everyone wanted answered. "How many of these things are there?"

"Three, in total", Prime replied. "The existence of the Leadership Matrix is well known, as it plays a key part in the life of almost every Transformer. The existence of the other two, however, was kept as a secret. Up until now, it has been against some of our most ancient laws for me to discuss anything more than the very simplest information with you. For that silence, I am truly sorry." Here, Prime turned to Jazz, giving him a look of remorse, which was returned with a gentle smile and a nod. Jazz knew what Prime was going to tell the others; Prime had felt he should explain himself to Jazz, in private, earlier that morning.

"Millions of years ago, three objects of great power were found buried on Cybertron", Optimus began anew. "It was recorded that one of the first Transformers to lay optics upon these devices was granted a small portion of their power, and gifted with a vision of the future. Those of you who know your ancient texts will be familiar with the prophecy written in 'The Tear-drops of Primus'. You will also have read the official texts surrounding it, explaining that two of the Matrices were destroyed, and that one remained. Put simply, this was a lie.

"The earliest Cybertronians feared the Prophecy. The parts you have seen, for their existence could not be covered completely, state that if the Matrices were ever united, a new Golden Age would be ushered in. This was to dissuade any with evil intentions from delving further into the legend and discovering the awful truth. The Prophecy, in its entirety, states that if one with a pure spark united the Matrices, then this Golden Age would indeed come to pass, at least for a time. But if a corrupt and evil spark were to unite them, they would wield a power too great to countenance, and the galaxy would burn.

"And so, the three Matrices were split up. The Matrix of Life, or Leadership, was placed in the care of the very first Prime, leader of Cybertron's armies. The Matrix of Combination, or Transformation, was placed in a secret location, known only to a few, because it was believed that it was the key to the Prophecy coming true. And finally, the Matrix of Power, known as the Matrix of War, was entrusted to the care of one of the strongest members of the Council, and was passed from generation to generation in the same fashion as the Matrix of Leadership. Until, that is, the last Councillor to own it used it for his own ends, and began the great war as we know it today. That Councillor's name was Megatron".

Optimus had expected some kind of uproar at this last statement, and he wasn't disappointed. Cries of disbelief and outrage shook the room. Most of the Autobots jumped to their feet, shouting out in shock and anger that they had been denied this knowledge, or that the Council had trusted Megatron with such a powerful object, or what, indeed, this had to do with current events. Of all those present, only Prime had known anything about Megatron's past. Optimus gestured for silence, and slowly the crowd capitulated. Prime waited for the last of them to retake his seat, before answering their questions as best as he could.

"Megatron had appeared to be loyal to the Autobot cause", he said, whilst switching off the hologram and bringing the lights back up. "When he revealed his true nature, and the Great War began anew, it took the combined power of the Matrix of Life and a vast contingent of Autobot warriors to defeat him. When it was achieved, the Matrix of Power was cast out into space, in the hopes that it would be lost for all time. Instead, less than a month ago, a group of humans discovered it buried in South America. And so I ordered a group to collect it and bring it here. Starscream got word of the transfer, and intercepted our team.

"It would appear that Megatron is no longer in command of the Decepticons. To make matters worse, Starscream has taken the Matrix of Power, and according to intelligence received from Cybertron, is searching for the Matrix of Combination as we speak. Which leads me to the other reason for this meeting. At this time, I would like to introduce you formally to someone, someone whom you may already have met. He comes from a future that we hope to avoid. Gentlemen, I give you my son, Artemis Prime."

Artemis stood at this prompt, taking a moment to collect himself and meeting the expectant gazes of everyone in the room. The white and blue mech felt out of place at that moment, unequal to the task at hand. He looked to his father once more, and saw that same, reassuring smile as he gestured for Artemis to begin. He knew he was being foolish; he had commanded for a long time, and fought more battles than he could remember. Even so, speaking to a room full of his idols would prove to be one of the more difficult tasks he had ever faced.

"Friends", he began, his voice filling with a mixture of pride and reverence, "I wish we could have met under better circumstances. And I wish I could have brought you better news. I'll get straight to the point; in seven days, the Decepticons start winning the war." Artemis looked around the room, noting the response of the gathered Autobots. He had the undivided attention of the room, and he continued, heartened by that fact.

"By the time I was born, Autobot forces had been decimated. Most of the colonies had fallen, Earth was losing its own fight badly. And worst of all, Cybertron, our home, had been destroyed. Within three hundred years, it was all but over, and the Decepticon leader had personally seen to it that our forces had been reduced to small splinter cells. We fought as best we could, but Overlord couldn't be stopped."

"I thought Starscream was collecting these Matrices", Bumblebee cut in, confusion evident in his voice.

"Apparently so", Artemis conceded. "I must admit, I had never heard the name 'Starscream' before my arrival in this time. But then, most of our records of this time had been destroyed when the war against the humans had begun. All we know is that somehow, Overlord achieves his goal in seven days time. He overthrows the current Decepticon leaders, and unites the three Matrices. With their power, he becomes unstoppable. The Prophecy comes true in a week's time, gentlemen. And I'm here to try and stop it."

O o O o O

As the meeting broke up, and the Autobots filed out and headed back to their posts, Artemis couldn't help but feel somewhat relieved. As the last of them left, and he found himself alone with his father, he let out an audible sigh and slumped into his chair. In a way, it had been a cleansing process; Artemis had been carrying the burdens of war for centuries, from a very young age. He had always felt that he should be as strong as his father, and not share that burden. To be able to stand here and speak of his plan, of his hopes, fears and expectations, of everything he had endured, it had felt as though a great weight had lifted. He had spoken of his personal war, trying to keep his team together, of dealing with the loss of his parents and eventually his friends, and finally his plans for his current mission.

"You did well, Artemis", Optimus said, moving to a chair next to the young mech. "I can only imagine how hard that was for you." Artemis looked up at his creator, and gave him a smile of thanks.

"Do you think it will work?" he asked.

"It has as good a chance of working as any other plan we discussed", Optimus said quietly, his voice contemplative. "You seem to have explored every possible approach, and have a better knowledge of this Overlord character than any of us. So yes, I think it will work."

"Thanks", Artemis said, his own voice a little distant. He looked down at the floor, as though scrutinizing it's surface for flaws. In reality, he was letting the moment sink in. Just being here, in this place that he had heard so much about whilst growing up, sitting next to his father; it was still a little overwhelming.

"Thank you."

"What for?" Prime asked.

"For trusting in me. For believing me. For everything."

"You're welcome. Come on", Prime finished, standing slowly. "I could use some energon, and a good walk. Would you join me, son?"

"I would like nothing more..."

_Decepticon Hall of Heroes, Iacon City, Cybertron, z- six days_

The grand hall echoed with voices, and not all of them were speaking out in jubilation. Many Cybertronian neutrals had gathered at the back of the hall, braying their descent at the proceedings. These were of a brave few; many, including most of the High Council, had made a protest when they had heard the news, but few of them had tried putting up a fight. Too many of them had seen the war between the Autobots and Decepticons, and the atrocities that had been perpetrated, and had no desire for that war to find new expression upon their persons. From his hiding place behind the dais at one end of the hall, Starscream watched the crowds and smiled.

"I wonder. Is it bravery, or stupidity that brings them here?" Starscream had voiced the question more to himself than to anyone nearby, but he received a reply nonetheless. Thundercracker let out a huff of mild derision, whilst painstakingly arranging a crimson cloak around Starscream's shoulders and wings. The velvet material, blood red and trimmed with a fine gold brocade along the hem, kept catching on the sharper parts of the Seeker's form, and was causing the blue and silver mech no end of trouble.

"Who knows?" he grumbled. "Who cares, for that matter? At the end of the day, there aren't enough of them to stop us, and you'll be Emperor by nightfall. So does it really matter?"

"No, I suppose not", Starscream said with a hint of a sigh. "Is everything in place?"

"Yes, everything's ready."

"Then let's begin."

O o O o O

The Decepticon Hall of Heroes was, in the grand sense, stunning. Tall pillars of grey-green marble supported a vast, cathedral-esque roof upon intricately tooled buttresses. The floor was composed of the same gleaming marble, green with dashes of grey and white, complementing the dull white stone of the walls and ceiling. At one end of the hall massive doors led out onto one of the main plazas of Iacon City, and at the other a set of low steps led up to a raised platform, and the throne that sat upon it.

Between the pillars, plinths of solid obsidian held large statues of the greatest Decepticons from history. At a signal from Starscream, the six Constructicons stepped out in front of the statues nearest the platform, long Cybertronian trumpets in hand. At their appearance, the guards who had been attempting to quell the jostling crowd raised their weapons, moving their stances from 'obstructive' to 'aggressive'. As soon as the crowd saw the weapons, quiet descended, and the Constructicons began to play.

A series of high, clarion notes filled the air, an old tune that had not been played for centuries. Starscream had chosen the tune for his coronation because he had liked its sweeping grandeur, and had felt that it matched the opulent surroundings. Sadly for him, as soon as the music started he regretted the choice; not so much of the music, but of the musicians. At least two of the Constructicons were off-key, and it completely destroyed the moment for the Air Commander.

Clenching his jaw, Starscream stepped through the curtain that had shielded him from the rest of the room and onto the platform. As regally as he could, he stepped forward to a position in front of the throne, and awaited his coronation. On cue, Onslaught stepped forward, the Crown of Night in his hands. He approached Starscream in slow, measured steps, keeping to the ritual layed down millennia before. Ascending the steps to the throne, Onslaught stood before the crowds and bowed. As the trumpets reached the final notes of the melody, Onslaught turned and placed the crown upon Starscream's head. It was done; Cybertron had a new Emperor.

"Citizens of Cybertron", Starscream called to the assembled mechs once Onslaught had made a discreet exit. "Behold your new Emperor! Cybertron and all her colonies are now under my rule. As your wise and beneficent leader, I will usher in a new age of advancement and conquest. All races shall bow before me!"

A wave of uproar began to spread through the more militant members of the neutrals, and the crowd began to surge forward. Starscream had anticipated this. At a curt nod from their new Emperor, the Decepticon guards took aim, and fired a single volley into the oncoming mechs. The leading rebels dropped immediately, those next in the charge stumbling over their fallen forms. As the realisation of what had just happened hit home, the abortive insurrection died as quickly as it had begun. The crowds stood, stunned, glaring in hatred at Starscream, but none were brave enough to try anything further.

"And so end all traitors", was Starscream's only reply, an imperious smile crossing his features, before he called out "Bring forth the Matrix!" At this command, Thundercracker emerged from the side of the great hall, the box they had retrieved from the Vaults in his hands. He stood before the platform, then dropped to one knee, raising the box above his head, ready for his brother to take the contents. Starscream stepped forward, a brief expression of fear passing over his emerald optics. He paused, bracing himself, then reached out and opened the box.

The effect was immediate, and even more powerful than the last time he had exposed the two Matrices to one another. Starscream had hoped that their being in close proximity would lessen the reaction, effectively letting the two devices get used to one another. And it had worked, at least for a while. He wasn't sure how it could be possible, but somehow the Matrices knew what was about to happen. As the keening cry of the ancient artefacts filled the hall, echoing the scream of pain that tore itself from the Air Commander's vocaliser as he reached into the container and lifted the Matrix of Combination from its prison, every mech present reeled from the terrifying, painful sensory onslaught.

Mere seconds later, and the noise faded away. The sense of raw power radiating from the dais, however, held the crowds in its grip. None could turn away, though many wanted to, fearing what would come next. Starscream held the Matrix before him, bathing in the golden yellow glow from its core, feeling the new power source starting to fill his body. Shifting the device's weight from one hand to the other, he took in the markings on it's flawless surface, admiring its simplistic beauty. He could hear them in his mind, both Matrices in harmony, singing softly of the power that was to come, the untold strength that they would bestow upon him. Intoxicated by the thought, he ignored the groans of fear among the crowd, and the cries of his followers for him to continue. All existence, all of Starscream's reality, fell in upon this one moment.

_Here it is_, he thought. _My destiny is here at last_. Grasping the handles of the armour surrounding the Matrix, he began to pull...

* * *

Author's Notes: Well, I never expected it to be ending on a cliffhanger, but after three re-writes the last couple of paragraphs just sounded better if they weren't there! On to the usual suspects... 

Transformers and all associated characters are the property of Hasbro/HasTak Inc., not myself. I profit from these stories in no way. Pity. Likewise, all named cars and makes belong to someone else.

On a similar line, Artemis Prime isn't mine either; he is on very kind loan from Prime Revolver, my good friend. Once more, I thank you. You can have him back soon, I promise!

So, there it is. Part two of Transformers: Renaissance is finished. And surprisingly, I got this chapter done in less than a week! Woot for me! Chapter one of part three, _Deus Ex Machina_, will be along shortly. I hope you enjoyed _Corona Nox_. Please review and let me know what you think!


End file.
